


Never Been Kissed

by PinkToby



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Ice Cream, abigail is seventeen in this fic and will is obviously older so i marked it as underage just in case
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-19
Updated: 2013-11-19
Packaged: 2018-01-02 01:17:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1050797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkToby/pseuds/PinkToby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off a prompt from hannibalkink:<br/>"Abigail's never been kissed. She gets really upset one night, telling Will that she'll never be kissed now because everyone thinks she's a monster. Will kisses her."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Been Kissed

“If I asked you to do something for me, would you?”

Abigail Hobbs does not look at Will Graham as she asks the question—instead, her focus is fixed on the strawberry swirls of sunset spread wide across the midsummer sky.  Her flip-flopped feet dangle off the hood of his car as her ankles swish around the air, as if trying to dispel the thick, sweaty humidity that has managed to hang around after a midday heat wave. 

It’s easy to forget that she is still a teenager, especially after what happened back in Minnesota just a few months prior.  Perhaps before her father chose to drag a knife across her throat, she had been as carefree as the stereotypical _Seventeen_ magazine snapshots of girls her age, but Will only knows her as a solemnly sweet young woman with nightmares that rival his own. 

Will feels, among other things, a deep connection to Abigail Hobbs—after all, they both bear scars from Garrett Jacob Hobbs, literally and figuratively.  Will has no desire to be a replacement for her father—the word ‘father’ leaves a bitter burn in the back of his throat, and God only knows how Abigail feels about it.  Instead, he tries his absolute best to be whatever Abigail needs.

Today, Abigail needs a scoop of triple-chocolate-chunk ice cream.  Will is all too happy to comply—ice cream is an easy comfort, something sweet and satisfying that hardly ever ends in tears or awkward silences. 

“Earth to Will Graham!  Are you even listening to me?”                                                                    

“Oh, uh, sorry,” Will takes a chomp out of his cardboard-y cone, savoring the sweetly bland crunch between his teeth.  “What’d you say?”

“I asked if you could do something for me,” she replies, bringing a flimsy spoonful of half-melted ice cream to her lips and sucking the sweetness into her mouth.  “So, will you?”

“Yeah, sure.”  Abigail didn’t ask for much, save a few books and little things like raspberry-flavored lip balm and a two-dollar bottle of sparkly blue nail polish that one time she had stayed with him and his mangy pack of strays in Wolf Trap.  She had shuffled into the kitchen to show him her peacock-polished toes that glittered with every step, and laughed as he choked out a compliment.  He revisits that memory often—it reminds him that life isn’t all corpses and crime scenes. 

He looks up and over to find that Abigail’s plastic dish is sitting forgotten by her knees and that her hand now rests atop his own.  Her touch is a whisper, but it is there all the same, and he suddenly feels his stomach turn.  Abigail Hobbs may be a great number of things, but she is hardly ever _timid._ His mind immediately reels with twenty different possibilities of what could be wrong, each one more horrifying than the last, while his chest begins to tighten and the air becomes thicker and—

“I want you to kiss me.”

Everything stops.  His mind stops tilt-a-whirling about his skull long enough for him to process her request.

“Abby, I don’t—“

“No, Will, I need you to hear me out.”

“Oh…okay.  Alright.  Explain away.”

“Will, I am never going to have a normal life, and—don’t look at me like that, you _know_ it’s true!  I’m spent my _whole life_ playing it safe, and my dad _still_ almost killed me on the kitchen floor.  I’m sick of just _surviving_ , Will.  I want to _live._ ”

“What does this have to do with kissing me?”

“Everything.  I know it’s been a long time, but I still feel like I’m gonna die any minute now…like some freak accident is going to off me, y’know?”  Her face breaks, and a sad smile seeps through.  “You probably think I’m nuts.”

“I really don’t think I’m one to judge.”  Will chews off another bite of papery cone and looks up at the dusky sky, as if the clouds could tell him what to do.  Unfortunately, clouds are just clouds, and answers do not fall like rain.  “But I have to ask—why me?  I’m sure you could find someone better.”

“Yeah, like who?  I’m not exactly _into_ chicks, and the only other guy I’d remotely consider is Hannibal, and I just don’t trust him the way I trust you.  I know it’s stupid, but this is kind of…special for me, and I know you’d respect that.”  She gives his hand a little squeeze.  “Besides, I love you, Will.”

“ _Wait, wha—?”_

“No, no, not like _that._ I don’t wanna, like, _marry_ you or anything.”

“Well, good, because I don’t know a damn thing about ring shopping.”

“Knowing you, I’d probably end up with an engagement fishing lure.  Girls like diamonds, Will, not fishing gear.”

“What if I put a diamond on the lure?  That way, everyone wins.”

Abigail’s giggle sparks a snicker in Will, an honest-to-God _snicker_ , and for a moment, he feels seventeen again.  It isn’t the ‘choose-a-college-choose-a-life’ flavor of seventeen that burns like whiskey and bites like acid.  No, it’s more of a ‘sneaking-into-an-R-rated-movie-with-candy-filled-pockets-because-everything-at-the-theater-is-too-ungodly-expensive’ kind of seventeen, and everything is suddenly simpler.  He can see into Abigail’s mind, and into the fog of fear and pain and _longing_ for normalcy, and he reaches out to put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“Someday, you’re gonna regret kissing the guy with the fishing lures, you know…”

“Maybe,” she says, looking off into the distance once more, “but then again, he thought I was worth diamonds, so he isn’t a complete dud.”

“Abigail, trust me, you’re worth way more than a couple of diamonds.”  He takes a moment to watch the sky, now purpled with the promise of bittersweet night.  It’s terribly romantic, in truth—a near-fantasy for a girl like Abigail.  He takes a deep breath, and before he can think better of it, he makes a decision.

“If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it right.”

He takes one last bite from his cone before dropping it in her abandoned ice cream dish.  He takes a moment to wipe his hands— _oh, God, when did they begin sweating?_ —on his pant legs, and Abigail watches him with an amused smirk. 

“What?”

“Nothing, I…”  Her face shifts with a blink of her blue raspberry eyes, and she’s full-on smiling now.  “You’re a really good guy, Will.  I’m lucky to have someone like you.”

“Come here,” he says, making a vague gesture with his hands.  He really never has been good at this type of thing, but he’s fairly certain Abigail will let it slide. 

She slides across the hood of his car, eyes downcast, and stops when her knee bumps into his.  She mutters some kind of sorry, but he is far too distracted by the bubblegum-pink blush that blooms on her cheeks.  He feels as though he could reach out and touch her nervousness as it radiated past her skin and into the open air.  The half-hearted smile he offers will do nothing to ease her concerns, and he knows it, but it still shows up on his lips anyways.

“You sure you want this?” 

She nods, apparently unable to speak, and he takes a deep breath. 

“Alright, uh, close your eyes, I guess…”

She obeys, and he moves to tuck a section of her hair behind her ear.  At the first feeling of his fingertips as they brushed the side of her face, she flinches away, but smiles an apology.  He lets his hand travel further down the side of her face, skimming her vanilla skin as he goes, before taking her pointed chin in his hand and moving in ever-so-slowly…

She tastes sweet and cold, just like her long-forgotten sundae, but warm along the edges.  She is everything he thought she’d be—shy but insistent, soft lips moving against his clumsily, but not without a certain flavor of passion that both excites and scares him.  It’s an intoxicating concoction of innocence and intimacy, something to be savored and cherished.  Perhaps she lingers just a moment too long to for the kiss to be considered a simple act of experimentation, but it hardly matters to Will.  It is more than the meeting of lips—it’s an act of trust, a promise, proof that maybe they aren’t too broken to live and experience the joy of being human.

The air around Will grows cold and he opens his eyes to see that Abigail has broken the kiss and now looks at the pretzel-twist of her interlocked hands in her lap.  She’s probably confused, and rightfully so—hell , even Will has confusion nibbling at the back of his neck—and he is at a loss for what to do.    

“That was…”  Her voice is barely a whisper on light summer breeze, and yet it carries heavy weight.

“You don’t have to say anything, Abby, really.  I-I mean, uh…”

“I know, I just…  Thank you, Will.  I really appreciate… _y’know…_ ”

“I know,” He drapes an arm across her shoulders and she leans into his side. 

Maybe, just maybe, they would both turn out alright.    

**Author's Note:**

> Well, there you have it!   
> I tried to bring out more of Will's casual/sassy side, since I honestly believe he would have a pretty open relationship with Abigail. So, it may not be like 100% canon!Will, but rather a version of Will I think could've been if Hannibal didn't ruin everything...
> 
> If you guys like Tumblr, you can follow my Hannibal blog at mean-cannibals.tumblr.com! 
> 
> XOXO Thank you so very much for reading! <3


End file.
